


Case No. XX37 - Classified

by hellzabeth, Megkips



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural and Mythology, Exorcisms, Gen, Non-Nation AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellzabeth/pseuds/hellzabeth, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megkips/pseuds/Megkips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-nation AU, Monster Mash collection.  A candid look at one of Gabriel's case files that the Vatican can't access, detailing an exorcism in England during the year 1866</p>
            </blockquote>





	Case No. XX37 - Classified

Issued: 3 February 1866  
Closed: 4 March 1866  
Type: Class B Exorcism  
Agent(s): Gabriel dos Anjos  
Peer Review: Antonio Carriedo  
  
Monster Information  
Creature: Demon | Species: N/A  
Height: Above average | Weight: Below average(?) | Eye Colour: Red | Hair Colour: White  
Other Distinguishing Features: Large horns (like that of a ram’s) attached to head, tail  
Misc.: Responds to the name ‘Gilbert.’ Claimed to be of “angel stock” - see records for exact details of exorcism which may confirm/deny this statement. May gave further insight into the classification of demons. (Status based on age? Just a thought. -A)  
See attached sketch for further physical description  
  
Description of Situation  
Received correspondence from client concerning demon infestation. Said client, for numerous reasons, was unable to remove demon himself. Standard rites were performed.

Collected Records

8 February 1866  
Gabriel--

I write you in haste in hopes that the delivery system I rely on will be much faster than human post. Should this draw the attention of your superiors, I apologize. You know I would not do this unless it is a genuine emergency.

As of 3 February, we have had a demon in the house. From what I can gather, Asrai thought it might be entertaining to try and summon something from the pits and raided my collection of texts in order to accomplish this. The thing that she ended up calling forth proved to be much, much more powerful than she or the spell bargained for, as he easily overstepped the binding circle and has taken up residence in the house.

While this would not usually be a problem - you know how big this place is - he has proven to be a nuisance. Entire rooms have had their furniture switched during the day time, he keeps stealing Aine’s undergarments and planting them in my room, and while this may not seem much, I believe you understand my concerns.

Trying to find an exorcism that involves well - avoiding the use of certain holy items - has been tricky, hence this letter. Please reply as soon as you can.

Yours  
-Arthur

PS: Should you feel the need to see if he’s appeared before, the demon likes to be called Gilbert

 

10 February 1866  
Arthur-

Due to prior engagements I cannot make it to England until the end of the month. Attached is a ritual that may be of some assistance. 

Your messengers are fine, I am not near the Vatican. Continue to keep me updated.

-Gabriel  
PS: I have no records of a Gilbert in my documents. Please give me a further physical description so I can send Antonio to Rome to access other resources.

 

12 February 1866  
Gabriel-

The demon is around my height, perhaps a little bit taller, with red glowing eyes - more intense than my own. His hair is white and skin is a similar colour.

Least you mistake him for one of mine, he has obvious demonic attributes - there are very, very large horns protruding from his head (similar to that of a ram’s). His tail is typical of most depictions of a devil, and it twitches constantly. (As a note, iit does wonders in demonstrating his mood, much like a dog’s tail.) He is able to summon a pitchfork and almost any other personal items with a snap of his fingers. The demon is also fond of the word “awesome.”

Will be performing the exorcism within a day or two. Am trying not to talk much about it in the house. I wish to keep him oblivious to the matter.

Yours  
-Arthur

 

**Copied from the diaries of Arthur Kirkland**

 

15 February 1866

The demon continues to become more and more irksome. I also fear we have aroused him to anger, as our attempt at exorcism has failed horribly - in part because all rituals demand certain objects we ourselves cannot hold, but because the demon’s power is that great. (Note to self: Begin to investigate names - Gilbert cannot be his genuine name. Who names a demon Gilbert?)

Our plan had been simple. Myself, Asrai and Darren would wait until 11 PM to go into the library, armed with the necessary items (pages containing ritual, unblessed images of saints etc) and begin the chanting as necessary. Gabriel had sent several copies of the needed chants, rightfully so.

The demon seemed as if he was expecting us when we walked in. In retrospect, we did not look very subtle - we were armed not only with pages of Catholic rites, but with weapons and other little charms that would protect us, and we wore them openly. Darren first attempted to weave a calming, but the demon’s mouth interrupted my brother’s train of thought. The demon laughed as he asked if we, hellspawn, were going to try and remove him from our property, and then laughed harder when we said that was, in fact, our plan.

I, being the most skilled with magic in the coven, began the rites as indicated by the text. The demon watched us carefully from his perch (and I do mean perch - he sits upon the backs of chairs, sofas etc. as if he is a bird on a wall), his red eyes fixed upon me. He flinched at certain words - God, Jesus, Holy Ghost - but he showed no other discomfort at the beginning.

Darren and Asrai joined me a few minutes later, when it was clear that I myself could effect nothing on the demon’s state. As they did so, his usually amused face soured, suggesting that we were having some effect on him.

We did not. The longer we droned on and on, occasionally butchering the Latin, the demon looked more and more bored, until he finally looked at us and went, “It really doesn’t work like that, children.”

We talked over him, wondering if this sudden outburst was indeed an effect of our attempts to exorcise him, but the fact he walked over and snatched the text from my hand destroyed that glimmer of hope. The demon laughed, then tossed the book over his shoulder.

“Nice try! It’s actually pretty adorable, but so unawesome guys. These things don’t work without all the right fixings, and I’m pretty sure I can hold a cross longer than you.”

He laughed, which was honestly one of the most horrifying things I’ve heard in my time on this Earth (and a very long time it has been.) It started off as a low, deep laugh, but quickly changed into something with a pitch only bats could hear. Well, bats and vampires.

“Anyway, you could have just asked me to leave!” the demon continued, once he stopped his cackling.

My brother offered me a sideways glance as if to ask why we hadn’t simply tried that, and then looked at the demon, “Well then, will you please leave, Gilbert?”

The demon smiled cruelly, “Had you asked me that up until this point, I would’ve said yes. But after that little stunt?” He let out a small snicker, “Fuck no. Hell, I think the awesome me will grace you with my presence for as long as I want. And if you don’t mind, I’ll take this as my quarters!” He gestured to the library, smile still affixed to his wicked face. “Surrounded by the greatest weapons after the sword and a pair of wings. Now, go away!”

He waved his hand towards us, and we were all compelled to leave, our legs marching us out of the room without our say-so. The door slammed shut behind us, followed by the click of the lock.

“That stupid demon!” Asrai launched herself at the doorknob and began to tug on it, “I need that room!”

To remind Asrai that this demon was here due to her meddling to begin with was unnecessary and mean, so I did not. I instead let her continue to attempt to gnaw the knob off entirely while I spoke with Darren.

“If we can’t keep him out, we should keep him in,” my brother said. “It will make sure we’re safe until we figure out how to get rid of him for good.”

I nodded in agreement, “We can salt the door and tell everyone to keep from this wing.”

“Aye, and no one will question it,” Darren replied. “The windows may be harder though.”

“You’re right. If we cannot access them from the interior, the wind will blow away the salt and he shall escape as he pleases.”

Darren paused, drumming his fingers against his chin in thought. “Some kind of charm on the exterior library windows then?”

“It would be worth the attempt.”

“Then I’ll get to it now,” my brother said. “There’s salt in the basement, right?”

“There ought to be,” I said. I honestly wasn’t sure, it wasn’t as if we used the stuff much. “I’m going to go dispatch a bat to Gabriel and let him know that we’re going to need a bit more help with this than we originally thought.”

Darren was about to nod in agreement when Asrai went flying backwards between us. We looked from her to the library door, only to discover that she had removed the knob from the door entirely.

“.....oops,” she said, once we had fixed our gaze back on her again. “Sorry.”

“We’ll replace it later,” I said, trying to hide my own grin. “Not like anyone will be going in there for a while anyway.”

Asrai has since spent the rest of the night digging around in the books I keep in my own room. They will hopefully pacify her until the library is re-opened.

The house is eerily calm, and perhaps that disturbs me the most. I’ve little trust that the demon will continue to be nothing more than a mischievous house guest.

 

17 February 1866

Things are still calm in the house, although I continue to be ill-at-ease.

The demon’s pranks, as I suspected, are becoming crueler. While his little jokes the first half of the month were, dare I say, mostly harmless, an incident at dinner has proven that he is moving away from this state.

We had sat down to eat, as there had been a very good hunt with a rich bounty the night before (and to our surprise, the demon did nothing that day). Matthew, as leader of that hunt, was given the right to sup first. Tonight, however, the leftovers were spoiled. When Matthew went to drain his meal, he had barely put his lips to the young man’s throat when he recoiled in horror, as if he had tasted something foul. 

“No! Stop!” he yelled out, before clapping both of his hands to his mouth. “Augh!”

James, who was seated next to him, sniffed at the skin of the victim and was similarly repulsed, “Oh for-- who rubbed dinner with garlic?!”

No one replied, because we all knew precisely who was responsible, and he was not sitting at our dining table.

Aine groaned and shoved her meal away, “Well, who wants to go catch something fresh then? We can let our fearless leader,” the name she used when she was irritated with me, “deal with the worst fuckin’ houseguest known to man.”

She proceeded to take a few others out and grab an appropriate meal, although the group has yet to return. I’ve decided not to bother the demon this evening, least I give him the satisfaction of our anger towards him.

 

21 February 1866  
Gabriel--

Exorcism failed several days ago - has only made demon angry. Am concerned for coven’s safety - there was an incident at dawn today.

-Arthur

 

Ripped pages from the Kirkland diary, removed with permission

 

21 February 1866 -

I am concerned deeply for the safety of the coven. The demon’s garlic fascination has turned to spiking our supper with holy water and worse.

To ensure that the demon has remained in the library, Darren has had to re-apply charms to the exterior windows every evening, least the demon’s powers overcome them. I know not what kind of magic this demon knows, but he is far too strong for us on our best days, and it spends much of Darren’s own strength to keep him locked in there.

Due to varied reasons this evening, Darren was unable to apply the charms until nearly dawn. I offered to assist him, but he smiled and rebuffed me, saying that it was a responsibility he had taken on and he would be the one to do it. He then gave reassurance that he could do it quickly and be inside before dawn.

At a quarter to dawn, there was a pounding on the door. Most of us had headed to bed, save James and Maya. James has always been late to bed, and I suspect he and Maya were discussing some matter of importance. When the pounding interrupted their conversation, they went to the door, confused as to who it was.

“It’s me!” Darren yelled from the other side of the door. “I can’t get in. Is the door locked?”

Maya frowned and looked at the handles. “No. Maybe it’s stuck, let me try and open it.” She gave a tug and was surprised when the door didn’t budge. She pulled again, harder this time, and frowned. Nothing.

“James? Can you try?”

James laughed and moved to open the door, “Funny, we just oiled the hinges! Maybe we should just get a new door - God knows this place could probably use a little fixing up.” He yanked on the door, as he always did, but it did not move for him either. 

Darren frowned at the door. “It’s stuck, isn’t it?”

“Looks that way,” Maya called back. “I’m going to go open a window. It won’t be a dignified entrance but--”

“That’s not much of a concern right now,” Darren said. “The sun’s a bigger issue.”

James continued to yank on the door, grumbling at it while Maya walked to the next room and began to try and pull the window open. She was surprised when it did nothing, but chalked it up to a fluke. The next window, however, had the same results. And then the one after that, and the one after that.

“They’re all stuck!” Maya yelled from a few rooms over. James was still at the door. 

“All of them?!”

“I’ve tried three rooms!” Maya said. “Did he maybe over-do the charms?”

“Maya says the windows are all stuck,” James said to Darren, yelling it so that Darren could hear through the door. “Did you over-magic the place?”

Darren shook his head, “Impossible!”

“Try magicking the door then!”

“James, I cannot simply magic into the house,” Darren groaned. “That’s just stupid.”

“What’s it looking like out there, sun-wise?”

Darren looked over his shoulder and frowned. The landscape was slowly changing from darkness, the first rays of the sun casting it’s warmth onto the grass. “Go talk to the demon.”

“By which you mean get Arthur to do it, right?” James asked.

“Sure, whatever,” Darren snapped. “Just do it quickly.”

“ARTHUUUUR!”

When I heard my name bellowed, my first instinct was to bury my head under all of the pillows I could. I was nearly asleep. I would have fallen back asleep too, if Maya hadn’t burst into my room.

“Get up,” she said simply. 

I spoke nothing more than, “Murghle.”

“Darren’s locked outside and it’s almost light,” Maya continued. “I can’t open any of the downstairs window and James can’t get the door open. Darren said it’s probably--”

“--that stupid demon!” I finished.

With no more words said, I leaped out of bed and began to storm towards the closed off wing. Maya followed behind me, her face sour. Normally I would have told her to go back downstairs, but there was no time for extra arguments.

The salt line that my brother had put in front of the library door remained untouched, and I was careful not to disturb it when I knocked on the wall. The line prevented me from touching the door itself, and so I hoped the demon would answer.

“Gilbert!” I thundered, just to be on the safe side.

The demon answered the door immediately. He was in a strange state - in addition to his horns and tail, a pair of wings protruded from his back - they looked less like the wings of a bat, as is common in depictions of such creatures, and more as if they belonged to a giant raven. I wondered what else he hid in his appearance, but now was not the time too ask. The demon smiled at me and Maya, trying his best to be charming. “He-ey, Eyebrows! It’s been a few days. What’s up?”

“The doors and windows,” I said. “What are you doing to them?”

Gilbert shrugged. “Not much, really. Locking you all in for the day so no one gets out and becomes a crispy, crunchy vampire--”

Maya frowned. “We’ve got someone still outside. Let him in.”

“Oh?” Gilbert raised an eyebrow. He never played dumb. He usually bragged about how awesome he was at knowing everything. Which meant he knew exactly what was going on and was responsible for it. “Well, that’s too bad, being stuck out there like that. It’s similar to being stuck in here, thanks to this salt line and your charmed windows.”

“Let him in Gilbert,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “The sun’s nearly up and we don’t have--”

“OI!” James shouted from downstairs, “IT’S PRETTY MUCH DAWN, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?”

The demon shrugged, “Anyway. Why should I?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Maya asked. “Did you really just ask that question?”

“I’m quite serious, oh unawesome somewhat stupid vampires,” the demon replied. “He’s the one who locked me in here, right? One good turn deserves--”

“Ohhhhhh no,” Maya said. I wanted to interrupt her, but there was something satisfying in the idea of her delivering a verbal smack down to the demon, “It doesn’t work like that. See, locking you in here? You’re inside and you’re plenty safe. What you’re pulling right now is going to cost a man’s life and--”

“And on what planet do you value life?” the demon asked. The familiar mocking smile returned to his face. “I mean freaking--!” he gave a short laugh, “Come on, you’re vampires! You kill humans just to feed yourselves!”

“Spare us the morality lecture,” I snapped. “What will it take for you to let him in?”

“Are you offering a deal?” the demon asked.

“Will you take one?”

“Well,” the demon paused, looking off into the distance for a moment, “It’s not like you aren’t damned anyway, so I don’t get your soul buuuuuuut...get rid of the salt line and I’ll let him in.”

“That’s it?” I asked. I knew Maya was staring disapprovingly at me. I could feel her eyes on my back, glowing a dim red.

“Yep,” the demon said. “Nothing else.”

I kicked at the salt line. The demon reached over and patted my back, then strolled out of the library, “Thaaaaank you. And for my first order of business, I’ve gotta use your bathroom. You were KILLING me, locking me in there like that.”

Downstairs I heard the door swing open, followed by an, “OOF!” It was probably James being hit in the face by an opening door, which under any other circumstances would have been quite funny.

Maya and I ran back downstairs to see to Darren. He has serious burns on his back, but those will heal quickly.

However, the demon has free reign over the house again, and I shudder in fear of what he might do next.

 

**Document obtained from the Kirkland Library**

(Date corresponds to the Hebrew calender. Presumably this is 21 February of the same year -G)  
(This looks like Arthur’s handwriting? -A)  
(It is. Translated from an ancient script - derivative of Hebrew. Original has since been lost. I've no idea where he even found it. -G)

5 Adar 3905-  
E + R--

So here’s what’s up. I know you’ve both missed me a lot and have probably wondered where I am! Well right now I’m top-side at some vampire’s house. Pretty sweet place overall. One of the little kidlets decided to screw around with black magic and summon a demon, so I thought I’d give a nice little demonstration of why you don’t annoy the lowerarchy with these things. It started with your good ol’ awesome poltergeist type pranks buuuut-

Seriously they tried to exorcise me. Vampires. Exorcising a demon.

The word laughable is the biggest, most unawesome understatement of the year!

Anyway, I’m gonna have a pretty awesome party tomorrow while they’re all asleep, so I want you both to get everyone you can to show up for awesomeness. There’s a hunter sniffing around in the area too, so we can really have some classy entertainment!

The word awesome will never have been more applicable, I’m telling you!

If you can, bring some of the good casks of wine. Borgia might be nice, I’ve still got a little (usual place in the office.) If you can’t find it, bring maybe the Committee for Public Safety. That’s a good, distinct taste. I’m so glad they listened to me on combining that vintage.

Your way, way awesome friend  
-Gilbert

 

****

Taken from the Hunter (Vatican branch) Library

 

21 February 1866 AD -  
HUNTER SOCIETY STATUS REPORT  
CODE RED IMPORTANCE

The hunter known as ALTAIR PROCRUCCIO has become un-contactable as of 0600 HOURS ON 20 FEBRURARY 1866 AD.

GABRIEL DOS ANJOS has been dispatched to investigate his whereabouts. ALTAIR was last in the village of CHEDDAR in ENGLAND.

 

****

Copied from the dairies of Arthur Kirkland

 

23 February 1866 AD  
I was awoken at three in the afternoon today by Aine. While this would normally have resulted in some argument with threats to kick her into the sunlight (and vice versa), the fact my room stank of opium meant that something was wrong, thanks in no part to our house guest.

I groaned, waving the thick smoke from in front of my face. I imagined that the lower rooms were nigh unnavigable, and then shuddered to imagine the effects of opium on demons. There was no way it would mellow and relax them, as it did with humans.

“We need to get outside,” my sister said, all but dragging me by the hand from my bed. “The little fucker invited friends over.”

“Friends?” I repeated, trying to regain my own ability to walk. Aine let go after a few moments, once she was certain I could keep pace with her. “How many friends are we talking about here?!” 

I didn’t want to imagine. I couldn’t. The house was huge with enough parlours and siting rooms that one could very easily take over the entire ground floor for a party of sorts. And if our demon was having a party - well, I had a feeling I would loathe what he might call good company.

We stopped at a window that had it’s blinds open ever so slightly. Darren and James were already there, taking turns in staring out the window.

“He’s saying something,” James muttered. “Open the window a crack so we can hear.”

Darren did so, letting in the relentless noise of demonic chattering - a terrible cacophony, composed primarily of screeches, low rumbles and little in between. I pressed myself closer to the window, curious as to how large the crowd was.

My eyes took a moment to register, adjusting to the harsh sun. It had been quite a few years since I had even so much saw a ray of it, never mind been exposed to a full afternoon’s light. Gathered in my backyard appeared to be a small army of demons - two, maybe three hundred in total, socializing in a myriad of ways. A sea of horns and tails - and none of us could do anything to remove them.

In the center of the yard looked to be a pyre of sorts, and our demon was perched atop it. His tail and wings flapped merrily in the late day’s breeze, ignoring February’s harsh temperatures. In retrospect, I imagine it was quite the reprieve from the heat of Hell.

“Ladies! Gentledevils!” he thundered at last, as if he was waiting to know we were watching him. “First and foremost, thank you all for turning topside for this awesome party. I’m pretty sure that the weather’s to your liking, which is just that old bitch Fortune smiling on us. Now, I’m certain that the various amenities already provided have been consumed in full, so I shall move us all onto much, much more awesome things, as I know how much you all love good entertainment!”

Oh God, he had brought prostitutes to the house in addition to all the opium. 

“Let us do so now then!” the demon grinned triumphantly. “Of course, I realize that we are all a loud, awesome, excitable bunch, and hitherto we’ve avoided waking your hosts and mine while they slumber! Well, I think we can stop that now. After all, it would be so rude not to give tonight’s star a round of applause!” He gave a short laugh, then yelled out into the crowd. “Liz! If you please!”

It was as if we were watching the most morbid sideshow that could have surfaced in the whole of England. Another demon - presumably the one he called Liz - walked out from one of our sheds, dragging a man behind her. He was bound tightly, but still struggled. Myself and all of my siblings were now glued to the window, peeking out as often as we could. I wondered to myself who this person was that so deserved whatever these demons might do to him, but as if he read my mind, the demon answered my question.

“Now, this young mud monkey is a good, dear friend of our Enemy,” he began. “And works for a very, very specific organization within one of the Enemy’s churches - that bastion of faith, that trainer of morality and cursed institution that thwarts our every wile! They’ve had so many names over the years - but these days they’re called Hunters, and their job title is the description of the loathsome work they do!” 

None of us moved - my siblings or the assembled demons. The hunter was dragged, kicking and screaming, towards the bonfire where the demon perched. I imagined that the creature would start the kindling, a part of showing off his own ability. 

The demon waited until the hunter had been tied to the stake in the middle of the bonfire before continuing his speech. “Ah, now see. They are our enemies, as are all things considered near and dear to those Above. Holy, righteous, blessed with virtues we can never attain! The very picture of what we fight so hard to destroy. Of course, their purpose being to hunt all things that are an abomination against the Enemy, they have made themselves the bane of the rest of the supernatural world as well. Werewolves, ghosts, fae, dragons, witches, warlcks and even vampires are all enemies of these hunters, and so wih that in mind I ask our hosts to help us begin the next stage of our festivities!”

My siblings and I exchanged glances. None of us looked anything but normal, and we wondered vaguely what the demon meant. It wasn’t until Darren’s eyes grew big that we had an indication of the demon’s plans.

“Where’re the younger ones?” he asked, his voice filled with panic.

“Oh gods,” Aine said. “Look.”

We all did so, feeling our hearts sink into our chests simultaneously. From the same shed where the hunter had emerged, Morgan stepped out into the sunlight. I heard James let out a muttered curse. She was the little darling that had followed him home and become his after a fashion, and now she was walking towards death in the daylight. With our demon out of sight, it became obvious that he was in full possession of her body, and that was how the demon would light the bonfire.

All of us, save James, turned away. Death like that was always painful for us to watch, and I wished my brother would do the same instead of starring helplessly. He would have felt her death soon enough. 

“M’going out there,” he declared finally, starting to march towards the main stairs.

“Among all those demons?!” Aine snapped, “Have you lost your fool mind? If the sun doesn’t get you, the hellspawn will!”

“Well if you’ve got a better solution than watch this psychotic episode, I’m happy to hear it!” he yelled back. “Idiot brother can’t get rid of the demon in the first place and now this! I swear--”

“You won’t last a minute out there,” Darren said, interrupting the two before they could even start. “I can manage a few minutes...three or four at the most.”

“Darren, don’t,” I started, but he held up a hand to stop my protests.

“Better me than you, you hard head,” Darren continued, pushing past James. He laughed in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. “You’d be too busy yelling at the demons, and then were would you be?”

Outside, we heard the low laugh of demons start to rumble, accompanied with the screams of a human. That was our hunter, now ablaze. And if he was on fire now, there was little chance Morgan survived.

The demon’s voice filtered through the window, silencing our argument. “Have what you want of him!” he thundered, his laugh piercing our ears. “For if he isn’t ours by some interference from the Enemy, we can at least torment his soul before it ascends!”

We all hung our heads silently, excluding James. He instead dashed down the main stairs and through the thick haze of opium that clogged our home, yelling for us to follow.

“You suicidal loon!” Aine yelled after him, the rest of us in tow. “Don’t you dare open that door, I’m not losing another person today, I swear to--”

James had thrown one of our back doors open and was shoving in a figure as fast as he could. The wail of the voice told us who it was immediately. Apparently our demon’s take over of Morgan’s body had preserved her long enough to delay the usual effects of the sun on our kind.  
“Get in the cellar and get something to drink,” James snapped, wrapping Morgan’s severely burnt form with his own sleep shirt. “Fresh, not choked up with opium!”

Darren ran off to do so while the rest of us rushed Morgan back to her own room, dodging the light from all of the open windows the demons had un-shuttered.

She began to shed some of the burns once Darren returned with blood - all of our fresh meat had been abused by the demons in one way or another, and there were still a few hours until nightfall. However, the fact remained that she was not dead, and that alone gave us great comfort.

Once she had returned to sleep, James telling her that rest would be the best thing for the time being and that he’d bring her a good catch in the evening, he turned to me with a grave face.

“I don’t care what you have to do, but either get that thing out of here or get us out of here. This shit was cute at first, but now it’s gone way too far.”

His ultimatum stands. I can only hope that Gabriel’s current assignment will allow him to arrive here by month’s end. I’ve little confidence that we can remain in our home much longer.

 

****

Travel Diary of Gabriel dos Anjos

 

26 February 1866 AD  
I arrived at the Kirkland household the other day, only to see most of the coven departing the house for the time being. Arthur informed me that there had been a sunlight incident thanks to the demon, and thus there was no way he would allow his family to remain in the house until the thing was taken care of. I did not ask where they were being sent, but it all seemed very orderly.

I said my hellos and then headed inside. It was still early in the evening, so I did not worry about talking to Arthur while he was in a state of exhaustion. While the last of the farewells were said, I unpacked my things and set about organizing my room. Since the last time I had been in the house, the room had been somewhat trashed - mostly my books. I suspected that it might  
have been the demon, but then again sometimes these things just happen/

Once everyone had departed, Arthur calmly knocked on the door to my room. The door had been left open, which I said to him as he walked in.

“It’s still rude,” he explained. “How was the boat ride here?”

“Fine, fine,” I replied. “Calm seas, as always.”

We exchanged pleasantries for a while, which slowly evolved into explaining all of the demonic activity that had plagued the house since the start of the month. I tried not to laugh at the initial idea of Asrai conjuring a demon (my entertainment coming mostly from what on Earth she’d even do with one), but by the end my face was silent and serious.

“And that’s where we stand,” Arthur said. “I dislike asking for help, but there’s no other way it can be done.”

“No, there really isn’t. Not that you didn’t try,” I smiled at him. It really was no fault of his own that he couldn’t exorcise anything. “You might as well introduce me to the demon, then.”

“He’s probably in the library,” Arthur replied. He walked out the room and began to head down the corridor, shaking his head to himself, muttering about what a demon might find in a library to begin with. I followed him wordlessly, wondering much the same thing. There was power in words, to be sure, but it was unlikely that any demon had use for human manuals on magic, never mind written history or science.

Arthur didn’t bother to knock once we reached the library door. It was open, in part, Arthur explained later, because Asrai had yanked the handle off.

My first view of Arthur’s demon was of him curled up in an armchair, laughing as he read Paradise Lost. I suppose for a demon, it would be a comedy. That or a tragedy. He closed the book after a moment more, finally alert to our presence.

“Well, well, well!” he looked up, smiling at the both of us. “A new friend!” The demon turned his head towards me. He was not as grotesque as I had expected, but the gaze unsettled me. “Or is he dinner?”

Arthur looked insulted by the notion. “You were right the first time. This,” he said, gesturing to me, “Is Gabriel.”

“Hello, probably future kicker of my ass in his dreams,” the demon said to me. “Nice to meet you.”

The cordiality deepened my frown and the lines in my face. He must have noticed, because he then buried his nose in the book again. “Anything else, Eyebrows?”

“Eyebrows?” I turned to Arthur.

“His nickname for me,” my friend grumbled. “It’s rather--”

“Accurate?” the demon interjected.

“Stupid,” Arthur corrected. 

I was almost going to agree with the demon, but then recalled what that would mean. Instead I simply shook my head and left the library. Arthur followed me, remarking that the demon seemed rather undisturbed by my presence.

“Perhaps he doesn’t know what I’m doing here,” I said in reply.

“I doubt that,” Arthur muttered. “You look tired, why don’t you nap while I take in a meal? I know the nocturnal schedule is a pain for you but--”

“I can adjust quickly enough.”

“Well, do as you like then. I know you don’t enjoy watching me eat.”

“There’s some unpacking left to do.” I shuddered. He was quite right. As much as I did love my friend, his dining habits were intolerable. “I’ll take care of that.”

We parted ways, I to my room and Arthur to the basement, where he perhaps had dinner waiting.

When I walked into my room, the demon was perched on the foot-board of my bed. His balance was immaculate, as he rested only on his tip-toes, the rest of his body hunched over. I expected him to pounce at any moment. Instead, he simply smiled at me.

“I wanted to get a better look at you,” he explained. “And Eyebrows was an impediment.”

“Uh-huh,” I glared back at him. “You’ve gotten a look. Now go.”

“Mmm,” the demon muttered, his eyes focusing on my chest. I still do not know what it was he was looking at, but it had made him click his tongue softly. “Well you’re an awful long way from home.”

I stood there, dumbfounded, unsure if he was talking to me or past me at some invisible force.

“Central American. That is old magic--” he continued. The demon was speaking more to himself, but I listened carefully. “European as well....old and....hah!” He smiled slightly. “You’re like geological strata, but with curses and agreements all over you” The smile grew, and his demeanour changed into something coarser. “Does the Hunter Society know you’ve made deals with vampires and are feeding the Kirklands information to avoid death in exchange for your own selfish motivations?” He paused for half of a second, then continued. “I’ll take your silence to be ‘why no they don’t and I’d sure hate for them to find out, Mr Gilbert!’”

“Gilbert?” I had honestly thought Arthur was making it up.

The demon nodded. “Yep.”

“Who names a demon Gilbert?” I asked, incredulous.

“The awesome me, of course!” the demon laughed, leaping off of the bed post excitedly. “I mean obviously it’s not the name I was given, but that name stopped being me a lo-ong time ago.”

“Bad memories?”

I had to admit, I gained some small level of satisfaction in the way the demon cringed at my question. But for all the grief he had given me, well, it seemed only sporting.

“You’re a quick study, I’ll give you that,” the demon said, circling me. His tail dragged behind him, twitching ever so slightly. “Bet you know what I’ll say next too.”

“Of course not,” I replied. “This implies that I’m capable of thinking like a demon.”

“Not that hard, actually,” the demon (now called Gilbert for the duration of this entry) said. “But you know, whatever. So, where’s your brother?”

How he knew about my brother at the time should have actually been rather obvious - the first curse from the witch long ago referred to us both. At the time though, I simply stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, don’t look impressed,” Gilbert said. “Awesome as I am, any two bit hellspawn could read it. Your middle layer is way worse though in my opinion, but that’s what you get for fucking around with Meso-American deities. Not too hard to break either spell ya know, and the last one well, that’s just an agreement that wouldn’t mean a thing if it wasn’t attached to a vampire.” He paused and shrugged. “I mean, a witch’s curse is easy enough to get rid of. Second one....well, good thing I’ve got my rank, if you know what I’m saying here.”

I did, and I laughed a little at him. A hunter, making a Faust like bargain with a demon? I wondered if he really was as old as he claimed to be.

My laugh seemed to be the reaction he was expecting though, because he proceeded to casually lean in the door way, tail wrapping around his leg up to his inner thigh. “Funny as it may be, I’m actually pretty serious here. The awesome me? The awesome me can very seriously help you with all that stuff.”

“First off,” I said, “I have no way of knowing you’d keep your word. Demons always lie. Second of all, do you really think I’d risk hell just for a simple way out of this life?”

“Depends how desperate you are,” the demon replied. “And I’ll have you know this - most demons, the good-” I cast him an aside glance at the his choice of words. “Okay, the ones who are skilled at their jobs? They tell the truth. They can twist, turn and embellish it, of course, but they still tell the truth. ‘Why is that?’ I hear you ask? Because,” he smiled suddenly, showing off a sharp, sharp set of teeth I hitherto had not noticed, “the truth always does much more damage than a lie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind then.”

Gilbert straightened up from lingering on my door jamb and yawned. “Well, whatever. Just remember that I offered, especially when you’re ours.”

I didn’t dignify him with a response, and instead watched him saunter off down the hall, presumably to return to the library. As I turned to get back to organizing my things, Gilbert popped his head back in for a moment.

“Oi.”

“Yes?”

“Eyebrows said your name was Gabriel, right?”

I nodded.

“I’ll give you credit. You’re much less of a dick than the one I know!”

With that he disappeared off again, and I returned to my things. 

“Gabriel?”

“Yes?”

“Not by much.”

I think I will in fact try to adjust my schedule to Arthur’s for the time being, as it should make the process of discussing the exorcism easier. In the mean time, I will read over the relevant texts tonight and try to draft several plans, in case the standard issue Catholic rites go horribly awry.

 

****

Copied from the dairies of Arthur Kirkland

 

1 March 1866

I awoke this evening to find Gabriel in my kitchen, cooking for himself. This was nothing out of the ordinary, but the bandages around his left wrist were. I frowned and asked after what happened, only to be met with a laugh and a shrug, explaining that “Theological arguments with demons are unpleasant things indeed.”

I thought it better not to ask after the exact argument, least I become mired in Catholic dogma. He did not seem to wish to elaborate either, which suited us both just fine. 

“Oh, and the Thing is out for the night.”

I blinked. The demon had not left the house since he arrived. “How did you convince him to do that?”

“I didn’t,” Gabriel replied, slicing a loaf of bread. “He simply flew out the window. I didn’t catch his evening plans, nor do I wish to know.”

“I’m sure it’s something awful,” I said. Gabriel nodded in silence, and I found myself staring at the kitchen table. It was covered with a number of books, papers, inkwells, pens and sketches. My eyes skimmed one of the open book pages, and I sighed. 

“How many variants of exorcism are there?” I ran my hand over the pages.

Gabriel turned from the counter, carrying a plate stacked with bread slices with him. He sat and began to read again, occasionally taking a bite of bread. “As many there are religions. It’s not a unique concept to Christianity. We just all have our preferences.”

“Do they all work?”

He nodded, then flipped a page. “I just want several options available. It’s been an awful long time since I had to do this, and that creature is absurdly powerful.”

“No shit,” I muttered, taking the seat next to him. “What can I do?”

“Names.” He passed me a thick leather-bound volume.

“Excuse me?”

“Exorcisms are more effective if you know the demon’s real name.”

I said no more, although I wondered quietly how I was supposed to magically guess the demon’s name out of an entire list of the things. It turned out the text he had given me was a record of all known exorcised demons the Vatican had dealt with, arranged in a chronological order. 

My mind read through everyone single one, although it began to glaze over by page 50. The text contained little more than a demon’s name, then a description which quickly blended together. Gabriel on the other hand was scrawling furiously on paper, occasionally mistaking his bread for ink, or sometimes his pen for bread.

“Anything?” he asked me, after a long silence.

I shook my head. “Not a thing.”

“And Antonio hasn’t written to me on the matter either,” Gabriel said, placing his pen back down in the inkwell. 

“I was wondering where the fleabag was.”

He fixed me with an unamused stare and shoved his books away. “Vatican, also looking into this demon matter.” 

There was a pause there that meant other things were going on as well, but if Gabriel was not forthcoming with details, there was little point in asking further questions. 

“You know,” I said, noting that Gabriel had begun to pile his papers on top of each other, organizing them. “The demon’s been very quiet lately. How have you managed that?”

“It’s odd,” Gabriel said, pausing his paper shuffling. “He’s offered me several pacts, as demons do, and every time I’ve given a neutral response. His attention has most likely shifted onto me and ensnaring my soul rather than his personal vendetta against you.”

It made sense, and I had to smile. “A fortunate slight of hand.”

“I don’t doubt he knows our plans,” Gabriel added. “But the preoccupation is useful.”

“You have a plan then?”

“Somewhat,” he said, looking back down at the table. “Exorcisms rarely go the way they’re supposed to.”

“Okay, let’s say we have a flexible outline,” I replied. “What does it look like?”

“Well,” Gabriel paused. “Can you possibly hold Holy Water that’s in a jar while wearing gloves, or is that going to be the first modification we make?”

Much of the evening was then spent as if we were scientists searching for the next greatest discovery. What I could and could not hold was tested over and over again - if I could even pick up a jar of Holy Water, how long it took for a cross to fall from my pained hands, if I could pray without losing my own tongue - and by the end of the night we had settled on our tentative roles in expelling the demon and how we would go about it.

It is nearly dawn as I write this and the demon has not returned. Gabriel believes that there is a chance the demon has found some new victim to terrorize, but I doubt it. He does not seem the type to easily forgive a vendetta or to forget to seal a pact for a man’s soul.

Perhaps, before we get rid of him, we should inquire what it is demons do with such things. I am certain I’m not the only one curious about the fact.

 

2 March 1866 AD  
Hermano--

Everything is well in Rome. Everyone is asking for you, but I told them the appropriate excuses.

I did not find any notes about the demon you asked me to look for - I found a Roderich that was exorcised in the 1300s, but other than that, nothing.

You know as well as I do that these things collect names like other people collect art, so I’ll keep an eye out. There’s a few other books that have come in that are relevant to us in other ways.

Stay safe  
-Antonio

 

****

Travel Diary of Gabriel dos Anjos

 

6 March 1866 AD  
I am sitting on a boat on the English Channel as I write this, having left the shores of England half an hour ago on the day’s final trip. I expect to rest in Paris for the night, then will hopefully travel to Provence via rail tomorrow. 

As of 3 March, the demon that plagued the Kirkland mansion has been exorcised - a joint effort between Arthur and myself. It was no easy task, but the challenges we anticipated were quite different from the ones that we faced. While Arthur and I initially were certain we would have to trick the demon Gilbert into a room so that we could perform all of the relevant rites, we were quite surprised to find the demon in the library, flying about for no reason. We were unsure as to why he was doing this indoors, but we did not ask any questions.

He took notice of us immediately and what we were carrying - Holy Water, several crucifixes and two very large, heavy books. I suspect he knew our purpose, but if he had any fear about what we were about to do it did not show, as he greeted us with his typical bravado. 

“Welp!” Gilbert said, perching on the back of one of the arm chairs. His bird like resemblance was more pronounced than I could recall from previous conversations with him. (I shall write about them later - he would often come into my room when I was awake and annoy me.) “Guess the indoor flying is right out then?”

Arthur glared. “Quite.”

We had no agreed upon verbal cue, and so I began the ritual with no more preface. The books I had brought were mostly for show. I had long had the Latin committed to my memory and the words flowed off my tongue as natural as any other language.

Arthur stood beside me, his face set in stone. In one gloved hand he held a container of Holy Water, ready to splosh it upon our demonic opponent if need be. This was a risk - one we had calculated - but I could not hold everything. We couldn’t simply place miscellaneous items on a table or shelf, as Gilbert could easily knock the things over if the effect of the exorcism so compelled him to.

I cannot say I was entirely pleased with the process. When I began the rites, Gilbert perked - his entire body rigid, wings expanded to their full span, and his eyes glowed the darkest, deepest shade of red I had seen. He did not lunge at me immediately - in fact, he did little of anything, beyond watch myself and Arthur with those eyes.

It was not until I began the second set of prayers that he reacted, shooting up to the ceiling and then diving at me with great speed and force that - had not Arthur splashed him with Holy Water, sending the demon backwards - I would have been brutally mauled. However, Arthur did.

While the maneuver proved helpful, it finally sent Gilbert into a rage, causing him to shriek and groan. I cannot describe the noise as anything but Hellish - high pitched noises that sounded an octave higher than nails on a chalk board, but even more unearthly. 

I could not - and did not - let his noise disturb me. I continued, while Arthur began to run interference, noticing that the demon was going for the books and taking out an armful of them. He failed to intercept in time, as the next thing I knew, the demon was pelting me with the things.

This finally broke my concentration, as there was now a constant need to duck.

“ARTHUR!” I yelled. The vampire was tugging on the demon’s tail in some sort of an attempt to drag him away from the book shelves. “Bring him over here!”

“I’m trying!” he snapped back, giving another firm yank.

Gilbert, however, snapped his tail back and out of Arthur’s grasp, but not before smacking him sharply across the face. It was not much of a distraction, but it was enough time for me to run over to where the two were, cross out, and press the item to the demon’s back.

The stench of burning flesh filled my nose immediately, but I did not move. Not because I was used to the smell - although I was, as witch hunting has this side effect - but because it was clearly weakening Gilbert. The cross made a hissing sound as it burned deeper and deeper into the demon’s skin, and soon the flailing stopped. I took a cautious step back and watched the demon slump onto the ground, motionless. 

Arthur stared, clutching the Holy Water he offered to hold. “That didn’t do what I expected--”

“We need to finish this,” I said. I had never seen a cross have that effect on a demon, so I was unsure what to expect.

I cannot say I was overly shocked by the fact that the minute I began the rites again, Gilbert sat up and proceeded to throw himself at mine and Arthur’s legs, hissing and spitting wildly. A sudden shriek issued from Arthur, and I cringed, knowing why. The water had most likely spilled onto him.

If this bothered Gilbert, or if the substance had even come into contact with him, I couldn’t tell. His sharp teeth were close to Arthur’s face which was covered in boils now, swearing every unimaginable curse he could think of at the vampire. “Pathetic little Hellspawn!” he spat, “You claim to be one of the most elegant creatures we ally with, so superior to humans, and what do you do when something goes wrong? Go running to them for help! As if--”

Arthur delivered a fist to Gilbert’s face, temporarily cutting the demon off. Under normal circumstances I doubt the blow would have resulted in much, but Arthur’s hand was also covered in Holy Water

The effect of the stuff was much more pronounced on the demon, as he almost instantly fell backwards, spasming and twisting in ways the human body is not capable of bending. 

“Gabriel, go!” Arthur snapped at me.

I wanted to at least pause a moment and pass him a towel, but I could not. Gilbert’s agony was the opening I needed to finish all of the rites. And so, with deep hesitation, I continued. “Depart, then, impious one, depart, accursed one, depart with all your deceits, for God has willed that man should be His temple. Why do you still linger here?”

“Because I’m not taking orders from a cursed little mud monkey that-“ Gilbert roared, writhing on the floor. He cut himself off, as his body began to expel a black bile that stank of sulphur and iron.

I steeled myself against him - his taunts yet again replaced with godless shrieks as the substance continue to spew forth from his mouth.. “Give honor to God the Father almighty, before whom every knee must bow. Give place to the Lord Jesus Christ, who shed His most precious blood for man. Give place to the Holy Spirit, who by His blessed apostle Peter openly struck you down in the person of Simon Magus--!”

I cringed as I continued, the shrieks becoming nigh unbearable. The entire room was beginning to buckle from the sheer noise, which I did not even think possible. 

Very suddenly, where Gilbert had been, a bright - nearly blinding - white light stood, some seven feet in height. It screamed with Gilbert’s screams and flickered wildly. It hurt my eyes to look at that white light, which I have come to theorize was the original form of the demon Gilbert - suggesting his bragging about being “from angel stock” was in fact true.

"It is He who expels you, He who has prepared everlasting hellfire for you and your angels, from whose mouth shall come a sharp sword, who is coming to judge both the living and the dead and the world by fire!” I yelled the last few lines of the ritual for emphasis, hoping that they would take.

As I screamed the final prayer, my voice hoarse from chanting and physical form completely strained from sheer effort, the ground beneath the white light opened.. I could not see where Arthur was, but I was certain he was also watching with mute horror. For a moment, I saw a humanoid silhouette in the light, then watched it crumble to dust. Immediately after, the light - and hole in the ground - were no more.

“Amen,” I said finally, bowing my head.

Arthur walked over towards me, having taken refuge behind the arm chair at the far corner of the library. He held a blanket, which I assumed had become a make shift towel.

“What did he say?” Arthur asked me.

“Huh?”

“As the white light burned - the demon was saying something, I couldn’t make it out. I wondered if you did.”

I paused. He was right, the screaming wasn’t just nonsense. “It’s a curse,” I said, letting my memory run back over those last moments. “To taste ash and dust for the rest of your days and for all that you love to disappear in the same agony as he did, so that you too may feel what he felt in that exact moment.”

“Charming,” Arthur muttered. “Do all demons go like that?”

“No, not usually. I can only count on one hand how many cases like that I’ve heard about. How bad did the water burn?”

“Look at my face.”

I did so, then jerked my face back. Some of Arthur’s flesh had been burned away, showing layers of muscle and in one small spot - bone. Other areas were nothing but boils, and I hated to imagine how painful the healing would be. 

“That was an accident, I didn’t intend--”

Arthur shook his head and walked towards the door. “We discussed the plausibility of an accident. I’ve enough ways of healing this up, if you’ll allow me the rest of the evening to relax. I also need to send a bat to Carmilla.”

“Ah, so that’s where everyone went?”

“Yes. She heard about the incident with Morgan and offered her home if we needed a place to stay for a few months.”

“Good thing it’s only been a few days.”

“Quite.”

We spent the rest of the evening in comfortable silence. Once Arthur had applied various magic (and bandages) to his face, he came back to my room, asking for assistance in picking up the library. I felt obligated to do so, offering to fetch cleaning supplies in order to remove all of the black bile that had been spilled on the floor. Arthur laughed and said that I was more than welcome to that job, leaving me on my own to explore the Kirkland mansion in search of cleaning supplies.

Once I found said mop and bucket (after half an hour of searching), I joined Arthur in the library. He was in the process of stacking all of the books in one corner before sorting through them. We regarded each other wordlessly, then went back to our tasks. It was a friendly, comfortable sort of silence as well as a welcome reprieve from the godless noise that had filled the room not an hour before.

I stayed for a few more nights, in part to help finish the cleaning up and rid the house of lingering spirits, ensure that my exorcism had worked and that no demons would return but also to make sure that a sense of normalcy had come back to the coven’s residences. 

Yesterday I received my summons from the Vatican in London (a mailing address I keep for the sake of convenience) detailing a particular haunting in the south of France. I am unsure what to expect, but am in hope of a simple assignment. I confess that the exorcism has still left me very exhausted, something that continues to bother me. It’s that or old age.

No matter. I have other business in the south of France anyway.

 

****

Found in the Kirkland library, translation thanks to Arthur

 

26 Adar 3095 (13 March 1866 - G)  
Elizabeta + Roderich --

I’m dictating this letter to my little brother, so if you can’t read his hand writing, ask him to translate.

I just underwent a very, very bad exorcism and am only just starting get anything resembling a form back. If you could do me a favor and grab me one of the most expensive casks from say...the 1300s (Late Florentine, if possible?) I’ll be in your debt. (Not literally, I’ll pay you back.)

I’d ask my brother to do it, but he’s at the hospital with me and refusing to leave my side. Gotta love the loyalty. 

Your awesome friend  
-Gilbert

PS: Roderich if you’re gonna come here and gloat at me for being an idiot I promise I will punch you in the balls so hard it’ll knock your wings off.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> -This fic’s style is a bit of a hat tip to Dracula, which relies on journals, newspaper clippings and recordings to tell it’s story.  
> -The idea of soul devouring is a direct reference to C.S. Lewis’ Screwtape Letters in which Hell does precisely this.  
> -My deepest thanks to Pidge and Cande for looking over my shoulder and informing me when I was doing it totally, totally wrong.  
> -Originally published on 10 April 2011


End file.
